He has done it , the camp was his , all the soldiers defending it were killed , their bodies would soon be left to welcome the army once they were back, one small gift in exchange for all the things they were to take that day.
Alpheo stood there, the sword of one of the soldiers in his hand. All the slaves around observed him in awe, during the fight, talks went around, and they all discovered that it was the boy in front of them who was the mastermind behind it all.
As he glanced over his shoulder, a smile spread across Alpheo's face at the sight of Egil returning to his side, he was, above all, happy that they were alive.
Still the question was on what to do now.
As a matter of fact , despite the apparent success of their rebellion, Alpheo knew that they were not yet out of danger. The taste of victory was sweet, yet it was tempered by the fact, that their freedom was a fragile flame, that could very easily be extinguished by the winds.
The army could return at any moment and if they were not out of there by then. All they had done would have been for naught.
As Alpheo walked, he couldn't help but recognize a few faces in the crowd, those of the dead obviously, not among the living. None of them brought back fond memories, only reminders of past grievances and conflicts. His eyes landed on a particularly rotund figure, sprawled on the ground before him.
"Well, if it isn't Madam Virzian," he muttered under his breath as he knelt down to get a closer look. It was clear that she was already dead, her eyes glassy and her body still. Alpheo had always prided himself on not holding grudges against the dead, but he couldn't deny feeling a sense of satisfaction at her demise.
With a sly smile, he raised his leg and gave her a swift kick to the stomach. A small laugh escaped his lips as he watched the rolls of fat jiggle with the impact.
'I once heard of a Chinese emperor whose body burned for three days on the street. Or maybe it was a general? I wonder if we could set a new record here,' he mused , entertained by the thought of giving the fat bitch such an extravagant send-off.
But upon further reflection, Alpheo dismissed the idea. He had after all more important things to do.He turned away from the lifeless form and continued on his way, leaving behind any thoughts of revenge or retribution.
He knew they couldn't afford to linger.
Better to be safe than sorry, he reasoned as he began to organize the slaves to speed up their efforts in securing the camp and preparing for whatever might come next.
Alpheo's voice echoed through the air, resonating with a newfound authority as he raised his sword high above his head. "Brothers!" he called out, his voice echoing across the camp. "The camp is ours! We have conquered it, and with it, we have reclaimed our freedom!"
A surge of cheers erupted from the gathered slaves, their fists raised toward the sky .
"But we must not become complacent," he continued. "Our oppressors may return at any moment with their army in tow. We must be vigilant and quick ." A small silence followed, with a few slaves nervously gulping down their fears. He knew they were scared; hell.... he was too , but he couldn't show any signs of it, he had to be a stone.
"We must leave this place and rebuild our lives elsewhere. Alone, we are vulnerable and will surely fall. But united, we shall stand strong against any threat. We have one hour to loot the camp and take what we need. Food and coins should be our top priorities. Search through the tents and gather clothes to use as makeshift bags for carrying necessary items. Whatever you find, shout out and alert your brothers. And do not be greedy, for what use is silver if you will die before spending it?
The same goes for weapons , if you find any, distribute them among your fellow comrades for our common defense.
And any man or woman you come across, either ignore them or kill them if they attack you. We do not have time for games of lust .We don't know when the soldiers will come back! Now go!"
As Alpheo's powerful voice echoed throughout the camp, the various slaves sprang into action with renewed vigor and purpose, after all, even if he hadn't tell them what to do, they would have certainly looted the camp in search of food, though they would most certainly have lingered around...
"Clio, go find Egil and tell him to untie the horses," Alpheo shouted as he took notice of his friends, his voice carrying over the bustle of the camp. "Also, search the area for any more of them; we may need them in the future. "
Clio nodded and took off in a sprint towards where he believed Egil was stationed. Despite being given orders by someone much younger than him, Clio held no resentment.
After all, it was that boy who had made freedom a reality instead of just a distant dream for their people. And so Clio's feet pounded against the ground as he raced through the camp.
As Alpheo made his way through the chaotic camp, he observed the show with a smile . Slaves dashed to and fro, their voices ringing out in excitement as they shouted to their companions upon discovering something of value.
"Hey, over here! I found some food !" one slave exclaimed, waving a loaf of bread triumphantly while eating it as he hadn't for a whole day, which in fact he had not.
"Here, there are some weapons !" another shouted, pointing at a tent before entering it and coming out with chainmail and a helmet , in his arms.
The camp was filled with hope as the slaves rummaged through the tents, their smiles wide and infectious, after all, these things they were stealing would be theirs.
If one wasn't searching for smiles , however despair was the second thing most present.
"Help! Someone, please help me!" a woman cried out, her desperate plea piercing the air before being abruptly stopped by a blade.
It was a good thing they heeded his order, as he feared that after finally gaining freedom, they would have gone around raping the cooks instead of stacking up supplies. But apparently the notion that danger was coming, made all lower parts go limp and extinguish any desire to unleash their snakes.
He had no guilt about what he was seeing. The disgusted looks from those who passed by him were still fresh in his mind, reminding him of a lifetime of rejection and scorn. So why should he trouble himself with things like mercy or guilt? Had anyone ever extended a helping hand to him?
No, they had not.
And now he was the one holding the knife.
And so as his blade sliced through the air and into the soft flesh of the neck of a man moaning in pain with the bone sticking out of his leg, he felt nothing , no pain, no guilt, no pleasure... just emptiness.
Still, all that mattered was surviving another day, by any means necessary.